


all in your head

by greatresponsibilities (BlankPages2023)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2020-10-24 08:37:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20703080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlankPages2023/pseuds/greatresponsibilities
Summary: “This is just a simple recon mission, Parker.”Iron Man flew low to be level with Spider-Man swinging between buildings.“I know, Mr. Stark,” Peter replied. Tony sensed a little sarcasm in his voice.“Hey, the only reason you’re coming with me is because Romanov is in Moscow for the weekend, so don’t go getting cocky.”Peter pulled himself higher as he swung and flipped mid-air. “That shouldn’t be a problem,” he said, laughing.Tony rolled his eyes. “These guys aren’t like the thugs you catch after school, kid. They’re terrorists, with alien tech courtesy of your friend Toomes. Remember? The guy that almost killed you? On several occasions?”“I can handle this, Mr. Stark,” Peter quipped back.“I know you can, but—”Peter started swinging faster so Tony had to speed up to stay in line with him.Teenagers, Tony grumbled.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!  
I started this fic before Endgame was released. It has no Infinity War/Endgame spoilers whatsoever (we're gonna pretend they never happened, alright), but it does rely quite a bit on the plot of Homecoming. If you want to think about it canonically it takes place in between Homecoming and Infinity War, with the addition of Strange. I have three full chapters written so far, each about the same length, but fingers crossed that I finish! I just started college and I've needed some time to adjust, but I think I'm ready to get back to writing! I love doing this so much; I don't want to abandon it :)  
So with that, please enjoy!

“This is just a simple recon mission, Parker.” 

Iron Man flew low to be level with Spider-Man swinging between buildings. 

“I know, Mr. Stark,” Peter replied. Tony sensed a little sarcasm in his voice. 

“Hey, the only reason you’re coming with me is because Romanov is in Moscow for the weekend, so don’t go getting cocky.” 

Peter pulled himself higher as he swung and flipped mid-air. “That shouldn’t be a problem,” he said, laughing. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “These guys aren’t like the thugs you catch after school, kid. They’re terrorists, with alien tech courtesy of your friend Toomes. Remember? The guy that almost killed you? On several occasions?” 

“I can handle this, Mr. Stark,” Peter quipped back.

“I know you can, but—” 

Peter started swinging faster so Tony had to speed up to stay in line with him. 

Teenagers, Tony grumbled. 

Peter wasn’t going to lie: he was thrilled to be going on a mission with Mr. Stark. Iron Man and Spider-Man, teaming up to take down evil terrorists! What could be cooler than that? He sensed Tony’s apprehension to the whole situation, but like he said, it was just a simple recon mission. What could go wrong? 

“You’re approaching the organization’s base, Peter,” Karen said. FRIDAY must have told Tony at the same time because he began to slow down. Peter followed suit. 

He saw the building up ahead and shot a web at the roof, pulling himself up to perch on the edge. Tony landed next to him, crouching down to be on the same level. 

“FRIDAY, scan for empty rooms.” 

“Okay, boss. The room beneath you is clear. I see a few hostiles in the other rooms of the top floor, but they’re mostly grouped together in the lower levels.” 

“Alright, kid, here’s the plan. We’ll go in this window—” Tony points over the side of the building, “—and take out the guys on the top floor. Then—” 

But Peter was already crawling along the side of the building toward the dirty, broken window. The hole was big enough for him to slide through but he webbed the edges of the glass to avoid cutting himself. 

Peter crept across the ceiling and lowered himself to the floor, careful not to make any noise. 

Tony had to open one of the larger windows facing the main street to get in and maneuver the suit to keep from breaking the jagged glass. He faced Peter with a huff of annoyance. 

“Wait until I finish talking to—” 

“Oh my god, Mr. Stark!”

“What, what is it?” Tony whispered, tensing up and swiveling his head to look for threats. 

“This is a school,” Peter exclaimed. They looked around at the room; battered desks were stacked against the walls and a chalkboard hung at the front. 

Tony relaxed a little. “So?” 

“Schools creep me out,” Peter said, rubbing his hands up and down his upper arms.

Tony let the nanotech in his helmet ebb away from his face so he could stare at Peter. “Kid, you’re in a school almost every day.” 

“Exactly,” Peter mock shivered. 

Tony rolled his eyes before speaking. “Well, it’s abandoned now. Nothing to worry about.”

“That’s even creepier!” 

Tony stared at Peter for another second before sighing and looking at the floor. “Okay, here’s the full plan, and you better not interrupt me, buddy.” 

Peter held the thumb drive tight between his fingers as he and Tony stalked around the top floor of the school. His job was to find the info hub and plug the drive into their main computer. The drive would then siphon away the terrorists’ information and corrode their systems, leaving Peter with a drive full of intel and the bad guys with a drive full of nothing. 

Completely foolproof, Tony had said. 

The sun was setting outside, throwing orange slants across the floor as they made their way down the hall. 

Peter had been joking before, but the decrepit school was actually pretty eerie. The walls were stained and moldy and there was a thick layer of dust settled on the floor. The broken windows refracted the sunlight and made weird shapes on the ceiling. He didn’t like it. 

FRIDAY alerted them that there were two people in the room at the end of the hall. Tony pointed at the two sets of footprints in the dust. 

“I’ll go in, blast them and give you the all clear,” Tony whispered.

“Hey, no offense, but I’m way quieter than you,” Peter replied. “Let me take them by surprise.”

Tony glared at him. 

“You were the one who asked me to come, right? What am I supposed to do, stand here while you have all the fun?”

Tony studied him for a moment before conceding. “Fine. Be my guest.”

Peter smiled from behind his mask. He took the handle of the door and slowly turned, peeking through the sliver of space and into the room. The two men were hunched over a computer and speaking to each other in hushed, tense tones. 

Peter closed the door and looked back at Tony. 

“What are they saying?” Tony asked. 

Peter concentrated. “They’re planning something big. They mentioned Toomes’ tech.”

Tony acknowledged his change in mood. Toomes was still a sore spot for Peter. He wanted to finish what he’d started and destroy the business once and for all. 

Opening the door again, Peter quickly and silently climbed up the wall and onto the ceiling. The men didn’t show any signs of noticing his presence. He had had experience sneaking around like this when he would sneak in and out of his bedroom before May knew about Spider-Man. It was a talent of his. 

When they still hadn’t noticed him, Peter said, “Wow, this must be a new record. I wonder how long you guys could have gone before seeing me. Guess we’ll never know.” 

Before the men had time to react, Peter dropped down from the ceiling and delivered a punch to the jaw of the guy closest to him. He was out cold before he hit the floor. 

Unfortunately, the other guy had time to grab a gun from his back pocket, but Peter was quick. He shot a web and pulled the gun out of his hand, then shot another to stick him to the wall behind him. The man just stared at him in astonishment. 

“You know, I can almost hear the gears turning in your brain, man, that’s crazy,” Peter said. 

Peter opened the door with another web and beckoned to Tony to come in. 

“Nice job, kid,” he said. 

Peter saluted him, then turned to the computers the men had been focused on before he attacked them. 

“Looks like some kind of blueprint,” Peter muttered as he scrolled through the pages on the monitor. 

“Must be the floorplan for one of the places they’re planning to hit,” Tony said, reading over Peter’s shoulder.

They looked through the plans for another minute before Tony broke the silence. “Alright, Parker, you stay here and get this info on that drive, I’ll go down to the basement and see what they’re doing, you good with that?” 

Peter mumbled in agreement without turning to look at him. Tony took his shoulder and spun him around to face him. He looked serious. 

“If something happens, you call me, understand?” Tony said, gripping Peter’s shoulder. 

Peter stared at him for a second. Was Tony really that concerned for him? Peter knew he cared, but the look in his eyes said he was feeling something more. Like if something happened to Peter, he wouldn’t be able to recover. It made him a little uneasy knowing his life could mean so much to someone else. 

“I got it, Mr. Stark.” 

“Good.” 

Well, that was boring. The drive did its job within a couple of minutes, and by then Peter was already itching for another fight. Why did Tony get to spy on the bad guys? 

Tony had made it clear that Peter was definitely not supposed to move after he’d done his part, but what could it hurt exploring a little? He wouldn’t go too far . . . .

Peter found the staircase that led to the lower levels. Tucking the drive away into a tiny pocket in the suit, he slowly descended, ears pricked for any sounds. 

“Pst, Karen, where are the bad guys?” Peter whispered. 

“They are all in the basement, Peter. Tony Stark is currently looking through the offices in the back. They do not realize he’s there. Shall I alert him of your success at your part of the mission?” 

“No, no, that’s fine. I think I’ll just stop in for a sec, see how things are going.” 

“Peter, I would advise against it. Mr. Stark gave you clear instructions—” 

“I just want to see what’s happening,” Peter said, cutting the AI off. He bounded down the rest of the stairs, not giving her a chance to argue any longer. 

When he reached the door to the basement, Peter stopped for a moment to think. Maybe he should just wait for Tony to come back for him, let him finish whatever he was doing. But curiosity got the better of him and he soon found himself turning the handle of the door. 

Peter peeked through the crack in the door. He could just make out the figures of several men, all the way at the back of the massive room, hunched over a crate filled with . . . something. He couldn’t see everything; a corner of the basement jutted out and interrupted his line of sight. 

The corner was what Peter assumed to be the offices Karen said Tony was scoping out. The door leading in was slightly ajar, but he couldn’t see inside. 

The men were all facing away from him, so Peter slowly inched out from behind the door and climbed up the wall. Wide metal beams ran along the high ceiling; Peter got as close to the men as possible before perching on the edge of one. 

He was practically on top of them, but he was high enough that they wouldn’t notice. Hopefully. Peter could see into the crate the men stood over now. It was packed full of weapons; ones Peter recognized as the alien tech Toomes sold. There was a large array of frightening looking guns, as well as things that resembled brass knuckles and that gauntlet the “shocker” had used to beat the crap out of him. Stupid name, but that thing hurt. 

One of the guys had a clipboard, and he scribbled down numbers as the other guys yelled them out. They were taking inventory. 

Peter’s stomach flipped as he looked around at the rest of the basement. Rows upon rows of identical crates filled the space, chock full of weapons waiting to be counted. 

Peter continued to watch, unaware of the man at the other end of the basement walking towards them. From where the guy was standing, he could perfectly see Peter crouched on the beam above the floor. 

“Hey, you, Spider-guy!” he yelled, pointing right at him. The guys below whipped their heads up to stare at him. They looked pretty mad. 

That was definitely an understatement. 

Tony moved carefully in between the desks and stacks of paper scattered around the large office space as the nanotech suit disappeared into its housing unit. One of the desks, right at the center of the room, looked like it was getting the most use. Several computer monitors were set up on it, still running, and hard copy files were open haphazardly across it. He picked one up and started thumbing through.

“FRI, you taking pictures of all this?” he asked.

“Way ahead of you, boss.” 

Tony nodded as he continued to flip through the documents. One was simply filled with names. Dozens of them. His stomach sank as he realized it was a list of the terrorist organization’s members. It was much bigger than he had known; he began to feel uneasy. 

He picked up another file. He stared in horror at a detailed floor plan of the Avengers compound. Tony’s mind raced as he tried to piece something together. How the hell did they get this? What were they planning? One thing he did know: they were smart. 

Heart racing, he grabbed another file, and almost dropped it when he saw a picture of a smiling boy staring up at him from the page. Peter. They had Peter’s picture. Tony scanned the rest of the page, his breath coming quicker. They knew everything about the kid: his name, where he lived, where he went to school, and the fact that he’s Spider-Man. 

“Shit,” Tony muttered. “Shit.” 

They had info on the other Avengers too, but none of them had secret identities. Peter did. This was bad. 

“Call the kid, we gotta get out of here, now.” But before FRIDAY could respond, Tony heard yelling from outside the office. Sounds of fighting soon followed.

Heart pounding, Tony creeped back toward the door to the office as his suit re-formed around his body. He started to open the door, but at the same time, he heard Peter over the comms.

“Uh, Mr. Stark?” He sounded slightly out of breath. “I could use a little help out here. I mean, I don’t need help, per say—” He was cut off by the sound of a large blast. 

“Kid, I swear to god—” Of course he had come down here despite everything Tony had told him. What had he been expecting? Without bothering to look through the crack in the door, Tony shoved it wide open and stormed out of the office. 

There were about eight guys aiming large guns at Spider-Man, who was jumping from rafter to rafter trying to avoid the blasts. No one noticed him at first; they were too busy trying to get a good shot at Peter. He was fast, though. Nothing had touched him yet. 

“Hey!” Tony shouted, pulling the guys’ attention away from Peter. Without flinching, half the men turned and trained their weapons on him instead. Tony didn’t waste any time chatting; he flew at them and knocked them across the large room, away from the kid. 

Tony went to stand up but before he could, a jolt of something went down his spine, sending him back to the ground, writhing. Electricity arced off the surface of the suit as he struggled to move. 

He looked over at a guy with a large gun stalking towards him, probably the one that just shot him with whatever the hell that was. He managed to rise to his feet, but something was wrong. 

“FRIDAY, tell me what’s happening,” Tony said, tapping his visor as the HUD went dark. “FRIDAY?” Tony was near frantic trying to get something to work. All systems were offline; he was grounded, FRIDAY was M.I.A, his repulsors refused to fire. He resorted to banging on the metal with his fists, but nothing worked. 

“Hey, Stark,” the guy coming towards him shouted. He raised his gun to fire another shot. Dodging just in time, Tony landed near another guy, this one unconscious. Out of the four he’d hit, two we’re down for the count, one was particularly dazed, and the other was currently trying to fry him. 

He didn’t have much time to think as he dodged another blast from the gun. Tony glanced over his shoulder at Peter, who was still weaving between the beams running along the ceiling. 

“Tired yet, Spidey?” Tony asked over the comms before he and the man began circling each other. 

“Nah, I’m good!” he managed to say between pants. 

Tony had to bring his awareness back to the guy in front of him. He moved until he had a clear view of Peter at the other end of the room to keep an eye on him. 

“Suit not working, huh,” the guy said, smirking. “That’s all thanks to Toomes’ nerd—you know, before they got put behind bars. Lucky for us, though, we still got to keep these.” 

“I gotta admit, it’s some pretty cool tech. Mind telling me what you plan on using it for?” Tony asked, playing along to stall for time. 

“No, I think I’ll just shoot you with it instead,” he said. 

“Figures,” Tony huffed. 

At the other end of the room, Peter was using all his focus to avoid being incinerated by the scary looking weapons the men were trying to shoot him with. They kept missing, but fatigue was beginning to set into his muscles. He couldn’t do this forever, and the guys down there were working way less hard than he was. They could keep going for a while. 

At first there were eight on him, but when Tony barged in that number went down to four. Peter barely had time to feel guilty for getting them into this mess. It sat on his chest, though, knowing Tony would be disappointed in him. But they could take these guys. He just needed a window to get in closer. 

As he continued to dodge the blasts, Peter was able to recognize a sort of pattern; the time it took for the weapons to recharge was consistent. He could predict when they would fire. He saw his chance. 

During one of the lulls, Peter shot a web at one guy’s hands, yanking him and his gun up into the air. He slammed back onto the concrete floor, the gun shattering on impact. Not the most durable of weapons, Peter thought. 

In the next lull, Peter swung down from the rafters and kicked a guy right in the jaw. Instant K.O. The remaining two aimed their guns at his chest. 

“Woah, guys,” Peter started, hands raised in mock surrender. “You know, I feel like we could be friends—I think we just got off on the wrong foot. We should catch a movie some time, maybe play a game of laser tag or something.” 

“You talk too much,” one of them grumbled. 

“So I’ve been told.” At that second, Peter’s senses started buzzing in the back of his head, more than they had been during the fight.

Before he could turn around, whoever was behind him said, “Hey, Peter.”

Peter froze. His eyes went wide and his stomach turned to ice. They knew his real name. 

Completely caught off guard, he didn’t even get to see who it was before he felt the man’s fist connect with the side of his head. Peter listed and fell to the ground with the intensity of the punch. His vision went blurry, but he could still make out the gauntlet encasing the man’s hand, pulsing with energy. The other two guys just stood there, watching, big ugly grins on their faces. 

Peter tried to blink the spots from his eyes and struggled to get his feet under him. He whimpered as the pain flowed from the side of his head through his shoulders and back. The men laughed and closed in around him. Peter looked down for a second, trying to focus on getting up, his heart beat rising as he started to panic. 

Come on, Spider-Man, just get up, he thought. But his brain felt fuzzy. His muscles weren’t responding like they were supposed to. 

Above him, the man pulled his arm back again. Peter’s head exploded in pain once more, and he was unconscious before his face hit the concrete.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony lunged, successfully catching the guy off guard. The suit wasn’t working, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt getting punched by a metal fist. He quickly realized that these guys were only as good as their weapons. He barely fought back as Tony knocked him out. 

As he stood up, the HUD lit up in front of his eyes. 

“That was weird,” FRIDAY said in his ear. 

Tony sighed with relief. “That can never happen again, got it?” But he didn’t hear what FRIDAY said after that. All he heard was a loud crack from the other end of the room. He snapped his head up to see Peter on the ground, three guys surrounding him. 

“Kid—don’t you dare touch him, I’ll beat your asses—” Tony yelled, but as he said it he felt something wrap around his neck and pull back. His hands flew up, grasping at the thick metal cable, feeling for the person behind him. He watched in horror as Peter struggled on the floor. He could just see his head through the gap between the guys’ legs. 

“Kid, watch out!” But it was too late. There was another sickening crack, and Peter slammed back to the ground, unmoving. 

Tony continued to struggle as the metal cable dug into the armor around his throat. All his attention was directed at Peter, however. He tried desperately to move closer to him, come to his rescue and whisk him away from danger. But he only got a few inches before the cable squeezed tighter. 

The next thing that happened made Tony’s stomach flip. He watched, appalled, as the three men beat on Peter’s motionless body, throwing punch after punch, kick after kick. It felt like the floor dropped out from under him. All common sense was replaced with adrenaline and rage as he cried out for his kid. 

Tony finally got his fingers under the garrote and ripped it away from his neck, yanking the guy holding the ends with it. It was the stunned man from before. 

“FRIDAY, take care of them,” Tony muttered, deadly calm. A second later, every man was on the ground. His tiny missiles had found their targets. He’d been given clear instructions not to kill any of the terrorists before the Avengers knew their plan, but Tony didn’t care. All he could think about was Peter, lifeless and sprawled out on the ground. 

As soon as it was over, Tony’s anger melted away and he ran towards Peter. He let the suit retract as he knelt down next to him. His hands hovered over Peter for a second; he was terrified to move him, hurt him in any way. He took a deep, shaky breath before gently turning him onto his back. 

“Pete?” Tony whispered. He had a small hope in the back of his mind that Peter would sit up and shove his hand away like that time at the airport, during the fight with Cap. At least then, he was responsive. But Peter didn’t even twitch. 

Blood seeped through Peter’s mask from the side of his head, making a small pool on the floor. Tony gingerly pulled it up until it slipped off. He sucked a breath in through his teeth as he looked down at the kid’s face. 

The blood oozed down his cheek, starting from his hairline. His brown curls were wet with it, appearing almost black. His skin was pale and pasted with sweat. The only sign he was alive was his shallow, rattling breath lifting his chest slightly. 

“Peter?” Tony whispered again, eyes welling. 

Peter’s eyelids fluttered for a second, his forehead creasing as he squinted up at Tony. But his eyes wouldn’t quite focus; they drifted around lazily like he was trying to see something far away. 

“Hey, Parker,” Tony said eagerly, leaning over Peter’s face to get him to look him in the eye. 

Peter was still staring into space, but he seemed to hear Tony, tried to respond. His lips moved a little, but he couldn’t form any words. He made a small choking sound, scrunching his face up even more. 

And then his eyelids started to droop. 

“Hey, unh-uh, look at—” 

But his eyes were already shut tight. 

“Fuck.” Tony could feel panic bubbling up in his chest, threatening to spill out. Before it took over, though, a woman’s voice spoke over the comms.

“Mr. Stark, sir, Peter has suffered severe contusions to his brain, as well as several broken ribs.” It was Peter’s A.I.; Karen, did he name it? “He requires immediate medical attention.” She sounded worried, a slight waver in her otherwise cool, soothing tone. 

“I can see that,” Tony said, eyes staring blankly down at Peter. He willed the suit to form around him and lifted Peter’s body, fitting his arms under his back and knees. He searched for the quickest exit; up and out seemed like the best option . . . . 

“I wouldn’t do that, boss. Too much movement could significantly worsen Peter’s condition.” 

“Stairs it is, then.”

Tony instinctively moved his arm to cradle Peter’s head, securing it in the crook of his elbow. He didn’t let himself think about how bad it must be, but the sickening crack of Peter’s head hitting the ground replayed in his mind, over and over again. And the way those men just kept going . . . . He thought he was going to be sick. 

Tony rocketed through the air, headed for the compound. It was dusk now, the sky a muted purple. Peter showed no signs of waking, and as the minutes passed, a sense of dread pitted deeper and deeper into Tony’s stomach. 

“FRIDAY, call Banner,” Tony said over the wind. 

“Hey, Tony, what’s going on?” 

“Bruce, where are you right now? I need you to meet me in the med bay, it’s—“ he glanced down at the lifeless form in his arms. “It’s Peter.” 

Bruce heard the worry in Tony’s voice. “I’m already at the compound, I’ll be waiting for you.” 

Peter flinched in his sleep. Tony gripped him tighter as he sped through the night sky. 

Tony rushed through the large glass double doors of the med bay, trying hard not to jostle Peter’s head. Bruce turned and instantly went pale when he saw them. 

“What happened? I thought you were just going to do some surveillance,” Bruce said as Tony laid Peter on a bed. 

“Ask the kid, he’s the one that didn’t get the memo,” Tony said. He gripped his wrist; his hands were shaking. “It’s his head, Bruce. It’s—there’s—” he sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. 

Bruce crouched down by Peter’s head and examined the wound, brushing his hair back with his fingers to see better. Peter breathed in sharply; Bruce must have touched the skin accidentally. Tony flinched, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Looks like the bleeding’s stopped . . .” Bruce muttered, more to himself than to Tony. 

He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and pulled Peter’s eyelids up, shining the light into one and then the other. 

“How’s he looking, Doc?” Tony asked. 

“Not good, Tony. This is not good,” Bruce said, standing. 

“Care to elaborate?”

“He’s almost completely unresponsive, and looking at that wound . . . It looks pretty serious.” 

“Well aren’t you gonna do something?” Tony huffed. 

“Head injuries are—difficult. You need to bring him to a real hospital. They can help him there.”

“Can’t you just use one of your PhD’s to fix him?” Tony said, rather exasperated. 

“It’s not that simple,” Bruce continued. “Brain trauma is tricky. Figuring out what was affected, how badly—I’m not sure where to start.” 

Tony stared at Peter blankly, eyes vacant. 

“Tony,” Bruce snapped. 

“Yeah, okay,” Tony said. “Just . . . help me get his suit off. He’ll kill me if anyone finds out about him. If May doesn’t kill me first.” His mind wandered back to the file sitting on the desk in that school’s basement, the one with Peter’s smiling face and the name “Spider-Man” stamped across the top. God, they were screwed. 

When Bruce didn’t immediately move to help him, Tony yelled, “Come on!” 

Filled with a new sense of urgency, Tony moved quickly through the compound to Peter’s room. He opened the first drawer he saw and rifled through, trying to find something for Peter to wear. As he ripped a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants out, he heard a dull thud come from the bottom of the drawer. 

It was a picture frame. Looking up at him from the photo was a younger Peter, maybe 11 or 12, and a man around Tony’s age. 

This must be Ben, Tony thought. 

They were both smiling at the camera, laughing at whoever was taking the picture, probably May. 

Guilt surged through Tony. He hastily put the frame down in the drawer and raced back to the medbay. 

He had made a promise to May—after she found out about the “internship”—to keep Peter safe. He had heard mentions of Ben from Peter and May, here and there during conversation. He’d looked up the news stories and the obituary, too. He understood the pain they both felt, could remember how painful his parents’ death was for him. He understood the guilt, too. 

It was his fault Peter was hurt. He couldn’t be the cause of more pain. He just couldn’t bear it. 

Tony was in the air again, carrying Peter Parker, not Spider-Man. FRIDAY had the route to the hospital displayed in front of him. He pushed the limits of the suit to go faster. 

“FRIDAY, call May for me,” Tony said. He knew he couldn’t put off talking to her any longer. But the dread of explaining to May that her kid was seriously injured because he’d taken him to a terrorist base made him change his mind. “Scratch that, just text her. Give her the directions and tell her I’ll be waiting for her at the hospital. And don’t sugar coat it. She’ll be able to tell.” 

There was almost an immediate response; on my way, was all May sent. Tony glanced down at Peter quickly before pushing the suit to go even faster. 

“Hang on for your aunt, kid, or she’ll kill us both.” 

Tony almost broke the automatic doors as he flew straight into the ER, making the nurse behind the main desk jump out of her seat. Tony let his suit retract, still cradling Peter in his arms. After the nurse had recovered from the shock of seeing Iron Man, she took one look at Peter and yelled for the other nurses to help her. 

A rolling bed appeared along with three other nurses, and before Tony could react Peter was taken from him and wheeled away down the hall. 

“It’s—it’s his head!” Tony shouted after them. They didn’t acknowledge him, but Tony watched as they immediately redirected their attention to the side of Peter’s head. They turned a corner and Tony couldn’t see anymore, could only hear the wheels of the bed spinning on the polished tile floor. 

Tony stood in the middle of the room staring vacantly down the hall Peter had disappeared down. He was alone except for a woman fast asleep in a corner (she hadn’t stirred even when Tony barged in) and the nurse that called for backup. She walked over to Tony with a clipboard in her hand. 

She cleared her throat and looked at him nervously. “Um, Mr. Stark, sir, I need to get some information from you.”

When he didn’t respond, the nurse hesitantly tapped him on the shoulder. “Mr. Stark?” 

Tony startled out of his daze and glanced at her. “That’s me,” he said, managing a tight smile. 

“What’s the name of the boy?” she asked, her pen hovering over the clipboard. 

“Peter. Peter Parker.” 

“What is your relation to Peter?” 

“He’s my intern.” 

“And how did this happen, exactly?” 

Tony paused a second before saying, “Car crash.” She squinted at him, suspicious. Tony was completely unharmed, not even a scratch. “I wasn’t in the car crash. I saw it—happen.” 

“Mhm.” She scribbled something down on the paper. “Any parent or guardian we should be notifying?” 

“His aunt’s on her way. Should be here any minute now . . . .” Tony crossed his arms over his chest, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

Just then, the automatic doors slid open and May rushed in, looking around wildly. The collar of her coat was flipped the wrong way and her glasses were tilted. She saw Tony and jogged over to him. 

Tony turned and prepared himself. He was ready for May to be furious. He expected her to yell at him, scream in his face, maybe even slap him. But instead, she thrust her arms out and hugged him, shoving her face into his shoulder. He stood there, stunned, before reluctantly wrapping his arms around her. 

“Thank God you were there,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. 

“Someone’s gotta keep him out of trouble,” Tony said, guilt flaring up in his chest. 

“Ma’am, are you Peter’s guardian?” the nurse asked. May broke away from Tony, wiping her eyes and nodding. “I’m going to need you to fill out some paperwork.” 

Paperwork. Tony was suddenly reminded of the heaps of hard copy files still sitting on that desk in the terrorists’ basement. Files on all the Avengers. Files on Peter. 

Before the nurse could lead May away, Tony held out a hand to stop her. She turned back to him, concerned. 

“I have to go deal with something,” he began, voice low. “Call me if anything changes, will you?” 

“Tony—” 

“I’ll explain everything when I get back. And I’ll come right back.” 

May stared at him with furrowed brows, almost pleading with him to stay and tell her what had happened. 

“I’ll be right back. Promise.” He held his hand over his heart. 

“I’ll call you,” she conceded. Tony was already moving towards the doors, his suit materializing around him. 

Tony entered the abandoned school the same way he and Peter had only hours ago. It was pitch black now, the only light coming from the buildings on the other side of the street. 

The suit clanged against the floor with every step, so he let it retract into his chest piece. He found the staircase to the basement and descended, muscles tensed and ready to react to any threats. 

The lower levels were completely dark; Tony used his phone flashlight to light the way. Eventually he reached the door to the basement. He let it swing open, prepared to see the bodies still scattered around the room where they were when he’d left. 

But of course, that wasn’t the case. 

Tony gaped, stepping into the room and shining his light over the nothingness in front of him. Not only were the bodies gone, but the crates full of weapons were gone too. The basement was nothing more than a cavernous hole in the ground, seemingly untouched for years. 

He walked over to where he’d found Peter, staring down at the concrete floor. He could just make out the blood stains, faint from being hastily scrubbed away. Tony rubbed a hand down his face. 

He turned away, looking over his shoulder at the entrance to the offices. Maybe they forgot to take the things from the desk, he thought. But the rock forming in his gut told him otherwise. 

He went in, just to confirm. And just as he’d suspected, everything was clean. The desks were pushed to the sides, completely cleared off, no papers or computers in sight. Tony swung his light over the floor, hoping something had been left behind, dropped by accident. But no. 

Tony closed his eyes, his mind racing while going over everything that had happened. He still knew next to nothing about this group of terrorists, and yet they somehow knew everything about all the Avengers. What were they planning to do with all that information? The advantage they had over him was overwhelming. 

Tony’s breath rattled in and out of his lungs as he let the panic wash over him. Just then, his phone buzzed. It was May. 

Steadying his breathing, Tony answered the phone. “It’s me.” 

“They’re moving him to his own room, they got the swelling under control but he’s still asleep. They’re—they’re not sure when he’ll wake up.” 

Tony took one last look at the empty office. “Coming back now.” 

Peter could hear voices outside the room before he’d even opened his eyes, before he could even think straight. He could hear May and Tony talking to each other in the hall. 

“—swelling went down, he seems to be stable. But they’re not sure what the full extent of the damage is. We’ll know more when—he wakes up.” 

A pause. “God, I can’t believe I let this happen.” 

“It’s not your—“

“Yes, it is.” 

Another pause. “Would you like to tell me where you flew off to just now, what the very important thing you had to take care of was, exactly?” 

Peter inhaled sharply, his memory of the school and the fight beginning to come back to him. But the quick movement made his chest and head hurt, hurt like he’d never experienced before. He cried out and opened his eyes before squeezing them tight against the bright, fluorescent lights. 

May and Tony must have noticed. He listened as their voices stopped, heard the door creak open and their hurried footsteps across the tiled floor. He squinted, trying to see their faces. 

“Peter?” May’s voice sounded thick, like it did when she was worried. 

Peter tried to look at her, could feel her grabbing his hand, but it was all too much. The beeping from what he assumed was his heart monitor started going faster and tears collected in the corners of his eyes. 

“Shit, sorry, kid,” Tony said, his voice sounding father away as he moved back towards the door. The lights flicked off and Peter slowly let his eyes open all the way. 

He looked at May first, kneeling next to the bed he was lying in. Now there was only the soft glow of a table lamp illuminating the room, and the light reflected off her glasses, making it hard to see her eyes. 

He tried to smile, but it all hurt too much. The tears fell down his cheeks. 

Peter lifted his eyes to see Tony standing by the light switch to the right of the door. 

“Thanks,” he said, only that’s not what came out of his mouth. His tongue tried to form the word, and he tried to make the sounds, but nothing really came out. His lips just kind of moved a little while he made a couple of noises in the back of his throat. 

Peter unfocused his eyes, confusion and embarrassment blooming across his cheeks. He knew what he wanted to say; why couldn’t he say it? 

“Take it easy, Pete,” Tony said, moving to the other side of the bed. Peter’s eyes darted up to him, and again the movement made his head hurt. He tried to mask his grimace, but he could tell Tony had noticed because he flinched, just a little. 

Peter closed his eyes, steeling himself to sit up. But Tony was one step ahead of him. With the tap of a button, Tony upped the dosage of whatever drug was being pumped into Peter’s arm. His eyes snapped open and he glared up at Tony, hot tears streaking his face, but he’d already started to drift off. 

“Just rest, sweetheart,” he heard May say, though she sounded really far away. He stopped fighting it, and let himself fall asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again! 
> 
> I'm so sorry I had to leave this on hold for a while; I had to get through my first semester of college! Hopefully I'll be able to update again soon since I'm on break for the next few weeks. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

“So they know everything about him?” 

“Enough.” 

Tony finally looked up at May, who was sitting across from him on the other side of a sleeping Peter. She brushed her thumb over Peter’s hand absent-mindedly, probably trying to process everything Tony had just told her. 

“But you can fix it, right?” 

Tony stared hard at Peter’s face, looked at the bandages and quickly-forming bruises. “I swear to God—I will keep your nephew safe, May. If it’s the last thing I do.” 

Just then, the door swung open, and a tiny, middle aged woman shuffled into the room, staring down at a clipboard. 

Tony brushed away his expression and replaced it with a smile. “Hey Doc.” 

She looked at him briefly and huffed, seemingly unimpressed. She turned to May with more warmth. “You must be Peter’s aunt. I’m Dr. Lily, I’m sorry that we have to meet like this.” She have May a firm handshake. 

May cleared her throat and nodded. Dr. Lily continued. 

“We already conducted a few tests when Peter was brought in—” she glanced at Tony, “—but we’d like to run a few more when he’s regained consciousness.” 

“Oh, yeah, about that. Pete already woke up, he’s just sleeping right now,” Tony said. 

“Wait, really? And you didn’t think to call for someone?” Dr. Lily said, her forehead creasing. 

Tony just looked at her helplessly. She exhaled. 

“We’ll call for you as soon as he wakes up,” May said after a second, sending Tony a look that said, don’t piss off the nice doctor more than you already have. 

“We sure will,” Tony said, smiling with his mouth closed. 

Dr. Lily jotted something down on her clipboard. Tony was surprised her pen didn’t go through the paper. 

“Well, as of right now we know that Peter has sustained some fairly significant head trauma,” she said, looking levelly between the two of them. “We just aren’t sure to what extent that trauma goes, or what specific areas of the brain have been affected. Though, now that the swelling’s gone down, we should be able to pinpoint the trouble spots.” 

She paused, reading her notes. “I was surprised to see how quickly the swelling went down, and I’m also surprised at how soon Peter woke up.” 

Tony leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees. “Yeah, how about that.” 

“Anything you’d like to let me know, Mr. Stark?” 

“Now that you mention it—I’ve been feeling this tingling in my left arm—probably nothing but I’ve been meaning to get it checked out—” 

May talked over him and said, “Thank you, Doctor, we’ll call you when he’s awake.” 

Dr. Lily stared at Tony for a moment longer before walking out. 

“Jeez, what do you tell the pediatrician when you bring him for physicals?” Tony asked May once the door closed. 

May managed to laugh a little. “That fast metabolisms and strong immune systems run in the family.” 

Peter woke up to voices again, but they weren’t Tony and May’s. They sounded muted, like they were coming from a speaker. Peter opened his eyes a crack and saw that the T.V. across the room was on, some home improvement show. 

He turned his head and saw May, her eyes glued to the screen. She startled at his movement and looked down, concern and relief mixing in her expression. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” she said softly, pushing a piece of his hair away from his face. Peter took a deep breath; May always knew how to comfort him, make him feel safe. 

He turned his head the other way and saw Tony. He immediately recalled how Tony upped Peter’s drugs to make him fall asleep; he glared at him half-heartedly. 

“Yeah, yeah, cry me a river, wouldya?” Tony said, his face propped on his hand. 

Peter opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. It was the weirdest thing; he knew what he wanted to say, but the words just wouldn’t come. He closed his mouth again. He tried to brush it off but he could tell that Tony had noticed. 

“I’m going to get the doctor,” May said, standing up. Peter looked back to her and nodded. 

As soon as the door closed behind her, Tony scooched closer to the bed and searched Peter’s face. “Talk to me kid, what’s going on?” 

“I—” Peter struggled. “Um—” He huffed in frustration, scrunching his face up and trying to concentrate. 

“Alright, relax, don’t pull a muscle.” 

The door opened and in walked a short woman in a long white coat. Peter assumed this was his doctor. May shuffled in right behind her and returned to her seat by his bed.

“Hello, Peter, my name is Dr. Lily.” Her gaze was direct, but not cold. He waved weakly. “You were in a very serious accident several hours ago, do you remember?” 

Peter glanced at Tony, who was staring at him pointedly. Peter looked back at the doctor and nodded. 

“Well, you suffered multiple blows to the head, causing contusions to your brain. We did a CT scan when you came in, but I’m going to take you in for an MRI in a moment so we can fully assess the damage.” 

Peter swallowed painfully. He could feel May’s hand on his arm, see Tony’s hand on his knee. He thought about the guys they had been fighting. They had those crazy weapons, but there was something else, something they’d said, something he couldn’t quite recall . . . . 

“—you ready?” Dr. Lily was asking. Peter snapped back to attention and nodded again. “Well, alright then.” 

“He’s afraid of small spaces,” Tony told Dr. Lily as one of the nurses helped Peter onto the tray of the machine. 

“And that’s very common. We’ll try our best to make this as painless as possible,” she said. 

The tray moved forward into the machine until Tony could only see Peter’s legs. May pressed her hands over her heart. 

“He’ll be okay,” she said, more to herself than to Tony. 

“I know he will,” he said anyway. 

Dr. Lily had the image results ready, but Peter was already fast asleep by the time she came back to the room. Tony was exhausted; it was mid-afternoon the day after everything went down and he still hadn’t slept a wink. May had drifted off but startled awake when the door opened. 

“We’ve determined which areas of Peter’s brain were affected,” Dr. Lily said, holding the MRI images. She seemed nervous. “Are either of you familiar with the Broca's area?” 

May shook her head no, but Tony rolled his eyes. “No, but I would just love it if you told us.” 

She hesitated before continuing. “The Broca’s area of the brain controls verbal speech. We won’t be sure until he’s awake, but Peter might have trouble forming the words he wants to say.” 

Tony’s face flushed, remembering how hard Peter was trying to speak before. Dr. Lily rushed to finish her explanation. 

“The good news is, he should be able to understand speech and form responses in his head. He’ll just be unable to verbalize effectively.” 

“Good news,” Tony muttered, tapping his fingers against his knee and staring into space. 

“His cerebellum was also affected, which will most likely hinder his fine motor skills. But we’ll just have to see.” 

Her voice wavered, making Tony look up at her. She was obviously upset, her mouth a thin line. He suddenly felt bad for being disrespectful. 

“Call for me when he wakes up and we’ll do some speech tests,” she said before walking out. 

Tony sighed and got up from his chair to follow her. He kept his eyes down, not wanting to look at May. 

He caught up to her halfway down the hall. “Hey, Doc,” he called. 

She turned and stared at him, waiting for him to say something. 

Tony cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for being such a dick, you don’t deserve it. It’s just—that damn kid . . . .” He trailed off. 

“I’ve dealt with much worse than a little sarcasm, Mr. Stark,” she said, smiling a little. “Now go back and be with your intern.” 

He squinted down at her, trying to figure out what she was thinking. But she just smiled and continued down the hall. 

“Can you tell me what your name is?”

“P-Peter.” 

“And your last name?” 

“. . . Parker.” 

Tony watched from the corner as Dr. Lily did the speech test with Peter. He watched as Peter’s face contorted with concentration, trying to push the words out of his mouth. 

How could this be happening? Tony had assumed that with Peter’s healing factor, he’d be fine after a good rest. The ribs would take a little longer to mend, but he thought the speech thing would be an easier fix. Apparently not. 

Dr. Lily pulled a couple laminated cards from her pocket. They had pictures of different animals on them. 

“What is he, four?” Tony asked incredulously. Peter frowned at him and he quickly apologized.

Dr. Lily ignored him. “What is this?” She asked Peter, holding up one of the pictures. 

There was a pause as Peter squinted at the card, but then— “Dog,” he said. 

“Good, and this?” Dr. Lily asked, now holding a picture of an elephant. 

“E-el . . . Um . . .” Peter blew air from his nose and averted his eyes. “Can’t,” he said. 

“Here, try writing it down, it might help,” Dr. Lily said, handing him a pad of paper and a pen. 

Peter’s fingers gripped the pen stiffly, like a first grader might hold one. He started to write an “E,” but the lines were all shaky. Tony sucked in a breath. 

Before he knew it he was moving across the room. It must have looked bad, but he had to get out, get away from everything. He couldn’t let Peter see him break down. 

“Tony?” He heard May call after him. He didn’t stop, didn’t even turn around. 

He was barely out of the room before he whipped his phone out and dialed a number. 

“Hello?” A voice said after a few rings. 

“Strange, get your magical ass down to Queens General. I need your help.”

Peter waited for Tony to come back in the room, but he never did. He barely paid attention as Dr. Lily said her goodbyes. May ran a hand down his cheek and he focused on her face. She looked sad. 

“It’s alright, Peter, he’ll be back,” she said. He nodded and turned away from her hand. “I’m gonna stop by the apartment and grab some of your stuff, okay? Just some clothes and your pillow. Sound good?” 

Peter nodded again, this time with a small smile. 

“I love you, Peter.” 

“. . . You too.” 

“Brains are tricky,” Strange said. 

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Tony grumbled. 

Strange had walked through one of his sparkly portals a few minutes ago. A panicked Tony immediately bombarded him, trying to explain what had happened to Peter. 

“I’m a doctor, I should know, Stark.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re a wizard too. There’s gotta be one spell—”

“Tony—” 

“Just look at him for me, please—” Tony was practically yelling now. 

“Okay, okay, I will,” Strange said, motioning for Tony to calm down. 

“Thank you,” Tony said. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. 

“Tony,” Strange said softly. Tony looked up. “It’s not your job to protect everyone.” 

Tony didn't miss a beat. “But it’s my job to protect him.”

Peter must have dozed off. He felt movement to his left and turned his head. 

“Tony?” He slurred. 

“Nope,” the man standing over him said matter-of-factly. Peter’s eyes snapped open. 

The man was doing something to Peter’s I.V. bag. “W-what—” Peter started to say, reaching out a hand to stop him. But his arm fell right back to the bed. Whatever the guy had done made his limbs feel like lead, made his tongue feel heavy in his mouth. 

“Don’t strain yourself, there, Spidey,” the man said, voice even and relaxed. “Or should I just call you Peter?” 

The monitor beeped as Peter’s heart rate rose. The man took the clip off his finger and it stopped. 

“We were gonna wait to kill you,” he said, moving to the door and locking it. He walked back to the bed and grinned down at Peter. “But you got hurt, didn’t you?” 

The man pressed on Peter’s side, making him cry out from the pain of his broken ribs. He grabbed at the man’s wrist weakly. 

The man pulled his hand away and continued. “We saw a wonderful opportunity. Why should we give you the chance to recover? It might not be honorable, but . . .” 

Peter could only stare up at him in horror. His heart was beating wildly now, from panic or from the drug the guy gave him, he wasn’t sure. 

“H-how do—how do you—” 

“How do we know about you?” The man said, still smiling. “Well, Pete, we both know you won’t be winning any awards for secret keeping.” 

Peter felt another surge of panic and tried to sit up, to get away, call for help, anything. But the man simply pushed him back down, holding him there, and he was too weak to fight it. 

After a moment, the man’s expression changed. “You know what? Let’s speed things up, shall we?” And with that, he proceeded to cover Peter’s mouth with his hand. 

Peter’s hands flew up, clawing at the fingers clamped over his face. The man used his other hand to pinch his nose closed, cutting off all the air, all the sweet, precious air that Peter needed, he needed air—

He tried to scream for help but all he could do was make a choking sound as he tried to breathe, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t breathe— 

He kept pulling at the man’s fingers, trying to pry them away from his face, but everything felt heavy, and he was so tired— 

The room went dark around the edges until all he could see was the man’s face floating above his own, and there was no air, no air—

“He’s right in—” 

“What is it?” 

“The door’s locked.” 

Tony jiggled the handle for another second before getting a better look through the window. And saw a figure standing over Peter, his back to the door. 

“What the—Hey!” Tony yelled. The man didn’t react. 

“Tony, stand back,” Strange said, already moving his hands to form a spell. A moment later, the door burst open and Tony ran inside, Strange right behind him. 

What Tony saw made him lose it: a strange man suffocating a barely conscious Peter. Tony could see tears in his eyes, see his hands starting to slip away from the man’s fingers, and his heart shattered before he ripped the man off and said, voice low, “Get the fuck away from him.” 

Peter gasped, suddenly able to breathe, coughing on the exhale and rolling onto his side. 

The man just smiled down at Tony, who was holding him in place. He was large, several inches taller and much bulkier than Tony was. But he didn’t move to escape Tony’s grip. He just smiled. 

“Better luck next time, I suppose,” the man said. 

“I don’t think so, pal,” Strange said, making handcuffs out of his magic. But before they could actually restrain him, he fell. Through the floor. 

“The hell,” Tony said, looking down at his feet to where the man had disappeared. But Peter was still breathing hard, so Tony let Strange investigate. 

“Kid, what’s wrong?” Tony started to panic. Peter was on his side, hand pressed to his chest as he heaved in air. Tony put his fingers to Peter’s neck. 

“Oh my god, Peter, your heart’s about to beat out of your chest,” Tony said, really panicking now. “What did he do to you?” 

Peter tugged at his I.V. and gestured with his head to the drip above the bed. He gasped some more, trying to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth. 

“He drugged you?” Peter nodded, coughing. “Shit,” Tony said, already moving to yank the tube from Peter’s arm. 

“Stark,” Strange said, like a warning. Tony didn’t stop. “Tony, please, let me do it.” 

Tony looked up at that, seeing the fear he was feeling mirrored in Strange’s face. He nodded and stepped back. 

Once Strange got the tube out, Peter almost immediately relaxed, rolling onto his back and taking slow, full, rattling breaths. Tony let his shoulders slump. 

“Thanks,” Peter whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks. He closed his eyes and was out cold. 

Tony took out his phone and rubbed a hand down his face. May picked up on the first ring. “Hey, change of plans,” he began.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again!  
So sorry this has taken so long--it's been pretty crazy, as I'm sure you all know. One chapter left after this!

“I hate to move you, kid, but we gotta get out of here.” 

Peter felt a hand on his shoulder and cracked his eyes open. His body was on fire, like his skin had been scorched, but the heavy feeling had started to ebb away. Really, he just wanted to sleep for a million years. Sleep and breathe. 

Peter nodded, letting Tony pick him up. He sucked in a breath at the pain still present in his chest and turned his head into Tony’s shoulder. 

Peter suddenly remembered the conversation he’d had with the man. His voice echoed in his head. Well, Pete, we both know you won’t be winning any awards for secret keeping. His heart sank.

“I—I’m . . . Sorry,” Peter said, gripping Tony’s shirt in his fist. 

Tony looked down at him. “Nothing to be sorry for, bud.” Peter wanted to disagree, to explain to Tony that no, he did have something to be sorry for. If that man knew his real identity, what other secrets might he know? And what awful things could he do with that information? But Peter was so exhausted, and speaking took so much effort that he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat made Peter look up. Dr. Strange stood behind Tony, hands ready to make a portal. 

“W-why—” Peter stuttered, confused. 

Strange started to say something but Tony cut him off. “He’s gonna fix you up.” 

Peter nodded and let his head rest against Tony’s chest. He was asleep again before they walked through the portal. 

“Start talking, Stark,” Strange said, squaring his shoulders. 

Tony crossed his arms. “Okay. I will admit, I was not completely outright with the details of the entire situation—”

“You got that right—”

“But in my defense I wasn’t planning on some nut job attempting to strangle the kid.” 

“He didn’t seem like just ‘some nut job,’ Stark,” Strange said as he pulled something out of his pocket. In his hand were four small stones, dark and reflective. “These were on the floor where our mystery man disappeared.” 

Tony squinted down at the stones. Something about them seemed familiar, something Peter had said . . .

“I think it’s more of the alien tech Toomes created, some kind of . . . I don’t know, Pete called it a ‘matter phase shifter.’”

“Hold on a minute, alien technology? When were you going to tell me about this?”

“When it was important, McGonagall.” 

Strange huffed, rolling his eyes. 

“I’m not asking you to get involved in all this. I’m just asking you to take a look at my kid.” 

“Well, consider me involved,” Strange said, moving past Tony and down the hall to the medbay, where Peter was. 

It was Tony’s turn to roll his eyes. He started to follow but Strange stopped him. “Let me have a minute alone with him, alright?” 

Tony’s eyebrows knit together. “Huh? No. Why?”

“Because you need to get yourself under control before you let him see you.” Tony started to protest but Strange kept talking. “I saw the way you were acting back there and you’re only going to freak him out more than he already is.” 

Tony looked past him, down the hall where he could see the door. “Fine.”

Peter lay in the bed, eyes closed, feeling the pain ebb away bit by bit. It was down to a dull ache now, but the fear that had coursed through his body had done a number on him. Not to mention whatever drug that guy pumped him with. He let his fingers graze over his face, the bruises there smarting under his touch.

He opened his eyes at the sound of the door opening, hoping to see May or Tony, but instead looked up to see Doctor Strange as he entered the room. 

“Peter,” Strange said. “I don’t believe we’ve ever formally met.” 

Peter shook his head, confused and a little star-struck. He had been in the same room with him a few times but they’d never spoken before.

“Well, let me just tell you that I wish we didn’t have to be meeting like this,” Strange said, sitting in the chair next to his bed and holding out his hand. “Stephen Strange.” 

Peter shook it, which was difficult for him. His hands were still shaking, like they didn’t really know what he wanted them to do. Strange pretended not to notice, but Peter could tell it worried him. 

“W-why—” 

“St—Tony wanted me to take a look at you, see if I can do anything the normal doctors can’t.” 

“Oh,” Peter said, looking down at his hands. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. Dr. Strange was a great sorcerer but what did Peter know about the extent of his powers or what they’d work on?

“Let’s get started, then, shall we?” Strange said with a flourish of his hands. 

Tony moved through the compound, not knowing where his feet were taking him. His brain refused to slow down, but Strange’s words echoed in his mind. You need to get yourself under control. He knew this was true but how? How could he calm down when there were so many things going wrong at the same damn time? 

Eventually he looked up and found himself at the door to his lab. He went inside without another thought and walked straight over to his computer. He sat down hard in his swivel chair, almost toppling over, and pulled up all the information he had on the terrorist organization. 

He scrolled through pages and pages of documents and surveillance intel he and the others had gathered over the last few months. It wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to keep Peter safe. How did they know? 

Looking around the room, Tony saw Peter’s discarded suit lying on one of the far tables. He lurched towards it, fumbling for the thumb drive Peter had used back at the school, before everything had gone off the rails. He practically ran back to the computer and jammed the drive in. 

“FRIDAY, sort through all of this for me,” he said, already starting to scroll through the information. 

“Sir, it’s only one file copied over and over again. It’s just the layout of the building.”

“What?” Tony said, his heart rate spiking. “So we don’t have any new information?” 

“It appears not.” 

“Fuck,” Tony said, raking his hands through his hair. The entire operation had been for nothing, then. Peter had been hurt for nothing. 

“Wait, it seems like there is a small difference in each file,” FRIDAY said after a moment. “There is a letter in the corner of each.” Tony’s screen shifted to show the letters. “If I arrange the letters together . . .”

Tony’s screen lit up with the words the letters spelled: “WE KNOW EVERYTHING.” 

Tony gasped, nearly falling out of his chair. They knew. They knew everything. They knew the Avengers were onto them, knew Tony or someone was going to sneak in and try to get this information. They knew it all. And none of them had had a clue. 

They were rubbing it in. They weren’t in the least bit scared of what the Avengers might do. They were clever, and fearless. Dear God, Tony thought. The hell am I supposed to do now? 

Tony met Strange on his way back to Peter. He was so focused on making it there that he walked right past Strange, who was leaning against the wall across from the door. Strange put a hand on Tony’s shoulder before he could open it and walk in. Tony whipped around, staring at him intently, trying to appear less hopeful than he felt. “So what’s the verdict?”

Strange cleared his throat. “Like I told you before, Stark, head trauma is a tricky business—”

“But you’re good at tricks, you’re a magician.” Tony laughed a little at his joke, mostly in an effort to hide his ever increasing concern. 

Strange didn’t laugh. “Good news is, he’s going to be okay. I did some ‘tricks’ that I believe will help.”

“But on the flip side of that. . . .”

“It’s going to take a while for him to get back to being himself again.” 

“How long is ‘a while’?”

“It’s hard to tell. Like I said—tricky business.” 

Tony nodded, staring at a spot on the wall just past Strange’s head. After a second he met his eyes again. “Well, Doc, do you think I’m stable enough to see my kid now?”

“As stable as you’ll ever be, I suppose.”

“Good enough,” Tony said, opening the door to the medbay. 

As he walked in, Peter quickly turned his head away from the door, then looked back, his cheeks turning red. 

“Eavesdropping, huh? Well, I guess it’s not that hard for you, anyway,” Tony said, pulling a chair up to the bed. Peter sat up a bit but didn’t say anything. “Strange filled me in, but you know that already. Said he did some magic, make you feel better?” 

“Yeah, he—” Peter waved his hands in the air, doing a bad impression of Strange performing a spell. 

Tony chuckled, but his smile slowly melted away. He stared down at Peter. “I’m glad you’re gonna be okay.” 

Peter clamped his jaw shut, his eyes watering and flicking around the room. He nodded. “Who. . . who—um, who are those guys? Really?” 

Tony’s mouth went dry. “Don’t worry about them, alright? I’m gonna take care of it.” 

“That’s not—an answer,” Peter managed to get out. 

“Okay, truth is—I’m not totally sure. But I’m working on it. You just focus on getting back to your chatty old self, you hear me?” 

Peter scoffed and rolled his eyes. They were both silent for a moment. “They—they know. . .they know my name, they know I’m—I’m Spider-Man,” Peter whispered. 

Tony went ice cold. “No, nope, you’re wrong. They were just trying to mess with your head, that’s all. They’re bad guys, that’s what they do, they mess with you.” He clenched his hands to keep them from shaking. 

Peter looked up at him with that stubborn expression on his face. “Lying.” 

“I’m not, I swear,” Tony said, eyes flicking around the room. Peter just scoffed again. 

“Yeah, right. They said—they said my—”   
Tony made a sound to cut him off. “Hey, I’ll tell you what you need to know when you need to know it, but right now there’s nothing you can do about it so you may as well get some rest.” He softened. “Let me deal with it, alright, bud?” 

Peter wouldn’t meet his eyes. Tony gave him a tight smile and patted his knee as he rose to leave. 

In the hallway, Tony heard quick footsteps coming towards him. May rounded a corner and nearly slammed into him. He caught her by the shoulders and she straightened and tucked her hair behind her ears. 

“Where is he, is he alright? What happened at the hospital?” she asked, glancing down the hall at the door to the medbay. 

“He’s okay.” Tony took a breath. “One of those goons found him so we had to get outta there. We couldn’t catch him though, which was a bummer.” 

“Wait, ‘we?’ Who’s ‘we?’”

“Wizard friend of mine. He checked out the kid, did some work on him the doctors wouldn’t have been able to do. He said we’re in the clear, for the most part.” 

May nodded, but she still looked uneasy. Tony didn’t want to freak her out even more by telling her what he’d found out. He silently hoped that she would stop asking questions. “I’m gonna go see him,” she said, pointing down the hall. Tony sighed, relieved, and motioned for her to go. “Coming with?” she asked. 

“Nope, I just came from there. Don’t want him to get sick of me.” He tried to smile but he knew it didn’t look at all convincing. 

“Okay, well. . . let me know if I can do anything to help,” May said, staring at him pointedly. 

“You’re the best, May.” 

Strange was pacing in front of the large wall of windows in the living area. The sun had just set, casting a purplish glow into the room. He didn’t seem to notice Tony when he walked in. 

“Still here? I’m surprised, I thought you would’ve magicked away by now,” Tony said. Strange stopped pacing and turned to him. 

“Did you really think I wouldn’t stay and help after you dragged me into the middle of. . . whatever this is?” Strange asked, looking mildly offended. 

“I’ve got in all under control—” 

“Yeah, no you don’t,” Strange interrupted. Tony opened his mouth to object but Strange gave him a look that cut him off again. 

Tony cleared his throat. “Fine,” he said, crossing his arms. He was secretly grateful for Strange’s assistance. 

“Now, tell me everything you know. And I mean everything this time.” 

After Tony had shared all the information he had, which wasn’t much, Strange gave a big sigh and nodded his head. “So who else can we call in on this?” 

“I’ve got a few people in mind, but some of my key players are out of the country on missions of their own,” Tony said, thinking of Natasha and Rodgers. Strange just nodded again, clearly thinking deeply. Tony just watched him. 

After a moment, Strange looked up at Tony. He seemed to be able to see right through him. “You’ve got a special kid, there, Stark,” he said, keeping his eyes on Tony. 

Tony clasped his hands. “Where’re you going with this?” he asked. 

“I can tell how much you care for him, the lengths you would go to in order to keep him safe.” 

“M-hm, and?” 

“I just want to make sure you don’t let any weaknesses be taken advantage of. Again.” 

Tony let out an exasperated laugh. “Let’s get to work, shall we?” 

Peter stared up at the dark ceiling, watching the shadows shift with the movement of the trees outside his window. May and Tony had allowed him to sleep in his own room instead of the medbay. Secretly, he preferred his bed back at the apartment over this one, but the lack of medical instruments made this room the obvious choice. And he couldn’t leave the compound, anyway, for reasons Tony wouldn’t fully explain. 

Unable to sleep, Peter replayed the last few days in his head, what he could remember, at least. He knew that they knew his name, his identity. They most likely knew where he lived, where he went to school, his friends, his family. His stomach twisted. They got him good. He hadn’t tried to use any of his powers besides his hearing, which worked, thank god, but who knew what had been damaged by the attacks on him? His brain was messed up, he couldn’t speak right or move like he was supposed to. How would he be able to fight these people if he couldn’t even sign his own name? Strange said he’d be fine with some rest but what if they came back? What if they used their information to hurt the ones he loved, and him powerless to stop them? 

He needed to get better, and fast. There was no telling how soon an attack could be. Peter clenched his fists by his sides. Tony was being overprotective again. Didn’t he realize that Peter wanted to help? He had fought Toomes and his tech before, he was the one who saw that man up close at the hospital. But Tony would rather trust a practical stranger over him, who had been by his side on countless missions. Granted, Strange was a pretty cool and powerful stranger, but still. Would Tony really leave him out of the loop just because of a stupid concussion? 

Just then, he heard a knock on the door. He flipped over, facing away from the door, and pretended to be asleep. The door creaked open and a sliver of light fell across the floor. 

“Pete, you awake?” Tony whispered. Peter didn’t move. There was a pause where Tony seemed to stand there looking in, but after a moment he quietly shut the door. He heard the hushed voices of Tony and Strange move away down the hall. 

Tony was used to getting no sleep. A bad habit, he knew, but these were dire circumstances. Strange, surprisingly, seemed wide awake as well, despite the offensively early hour of the morning. Tony looked over at him, rubbing his eyes from the strain of reading off a computer screen for so long. Strange was glued to his own screen, eyes darting back and forth as he read. 

Tony threw a wad of paper at him, which made him jump, turn, and raise his eyebrows accusingly. “How’re you still conscious?” Tony asked. “We’ve been at this for hours.”

Strange turned back to his screen. “Research, studying. It’s what I’m good at.” 

Tony nodded to himself. “Find anything good?” 

Strange glanced over at him. “Well, you don’t have the most extensive pool of information on these guys. . .” 

“I’m aware.” 

“But I did manage to draw some connections between what you know about them and what you know about Adrian Toomes. Since they’re using his tech we can assume that they at least know each other, if not worked together. You said that one of the guys mentioned him. . . . There are some payment records you have between Toomes and an unknown buyer. . . . It seems to be the largest purchase of alien weapons here. . . . From what you said about the abandoned school this could have been them. It’s time stamped shortly before Toomes was incarcerated.” 

Tony opened his mouth to say something, but Strange wasn’t done. “Maybe they were planning something bigger together, bigger than the plane robbery. Toomes may have let something slip about Peter—”

“Not possible,” Tony interrupted. “We cleared it with Toomes, he wasn’t gonna talk about what he knew—”

It was Strange’s turn to interrupt. “You spoke with him? When was this?” 

“The kid and I went to visit him before he was moved to the Raft. Pete just wanted to check up on him, he felt bad . . . I was there to make sure Toomes would keep quiet. Didn’t even have to threaten him, though, I could tell he wasn’t gonna say anything.” 

“Well these guys are smart, they must have been watching him, made the connection when they saw you and Peter visit,” Strange said with a sigh. 

“So it’s my fault,” Tony said like he already knew it was the truth. 

Strange looked at him incredulously. “What? No, Tony, of course not.” 

Tony didn’t seem to hear him. “I was the one that said it was okay to go—I knew he was already vulnerable, that people wanted to hurt him. And then I go and bring him along on that mission . . . God, I thought I was done making stupid decisions.” He breathed in sharply and let his head fall into his hands. 

He heard Strange stand up and walk over to him. “Hey,” he said softly. Tony slowly lifted his head. “You’re not alone in this. Whatever you may think, this is not because of you. And I’m here to help now. We’re not going to let anything happen to the kid. I’ll make sure of that, and I know you will too.” 

Tony sat back in his chair, staring at a point over Strange’s shoulder. “I knew I made the right choice calling you in on this. Wizards are even smarter than I thought.” 

Strange chuckled. “You’re not so bad yourself, Iron Man.”


End file.
